


lover

by aac7



Series: threads of gold [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Lazy Mornings, Married Life, Morning Sex, Post-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles, bcs i am a weak creature, claude being byleth's number one distraction, morning fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 03:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aac7/pseuds/aac7
Summary: When the King Consort of Fódlan comes home, the Queen of Fódlan doesn't get much work done.Or, Claude von Riegan misses his wife and no one (not even Seteth) can stop him from proving it to her.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: threads of gold [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213373
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	lover

**Author's Note:**

> "Lover" by Taylor Swift just fills my heart with ideas of extremely self-indulgent morning fluff.

Dawn would always be Byleth’s favourite part of the day. It’s a serene moment where the world ceases to breathe, when the deep blue hue of the sky is replaced with gentle, watercolour tones of pink and orange, easing her into wakefulness.

It’s on mornings like these where Byleth feels as if she’s floating, basking in the warmth of the Derdriu at dawn. She breathes deeply and slowly, allowing her body and mind a moment of respite before the day begins and she’s required to rise. She focuses on the feel of the silk sheets against her skin, the sound of the waves rolling against the shore, the smell of pine needles and sandalwood on Claude’s skin.

Dawns are sweeter when her husband is home. 

“Mornin’,” Claude murmurs headily into her ear. Calloused hands slide around her waist, pulling her into him. She could feel the heat radiating from his touch, burning through her silk negligee and creeping over every inch of her skin. 

Byleth rolls over to face him, placing a kiss between emerald eyes that barely fluttered open. “Go back to sleep,” she whispers. He’d arrived from Almyra a mere week ago, bringing with him an army that had more or less saved her own out on the battlefield. 

Since then, they hadn’t a moment’s respite. No single moment where they’d been allowed to appreciate each other’s company again. Her days had been spent poring over damage reports with Seteth, and repeatedly adjusting their funds as they tried to properly compensate each of the territories for their hard work.

Claude had been making repeat visits to the Throat, establishing a frequent line of communication between himself and his advisors back home. It was quite the momentous decision for Almyra to lend their aid to Fódlan, a move with political ramifications that needed to be addressed. 

Claude’s eyes drift shut again as he mumbles something incoherent, nudging his face deeper into his pillow. Brushing messy strands of hair from his face, she allowed herself to admire how cute he looked when on the throes of sleep and wakefulness. His intently furrowed brow, the way his lips parted slightly with each soft breath. He looked so relaxed.

Such was the life for the King Consort of Fódlan. 

The Queen of Fódlan, however, had a schedule.

Byleth barely retracts her hand when Claude’s eyes blink open once more, his bleary gaze catching hers as if he could read her thoughts. “Where are you going?” 

His voice is husky and barely awake, a sound Byleth hadn’t woken up to in six long, lonely months. She missed it. “I have a few meetings this morning. I need to get dressed and get something to eat.” She attempts to get up, but his muscled arm catches her waist and pulls her back into his chest. 

“No,” he mutters, tucking his chin into the crook of her neck. 

“No?” 

“Haven’t seen you in so long,” he murmurs, and Byleth shudders slightly as his teeth graze the side of her neck. “You need to stay here with me.”

Byleth sighs, tempted to succumb to his lazy kisses and warm embrace. “Claude, I can’t,” she insists, but she isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince. 

He whines against her skin, holding her tighter. 

“Claude,” she repeats more firmly. “I need to get ready."

He doesn’t argue with her, huffing pitifully. Byleth is about to get up when she feels his hand ghost down her waist, languidly smoothing over the silk of her negligee. 

Her breath hitches when he rolls on top of her, his face hovering inches over hers.

“Then let me kiss you goodbye,” he breathes, his warm breath ghosting over her pulse and causing her to shudder with anticipation. She unconsciously wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He places a gentle kiss on her forehead and to each of her cheeks, his soft lips in no particular hurry as they wander down her jaw. 

Their lips meet in a kiss that renders her lightheaded and dizzy, sighing contentedly as his hand grips her waist. It’s been _so long_ since she’s kissed him like this. So long since she’d held him and touched him and breathed him in.

She _missed_ him.

“Claude,” she sighs as he continues his soft caresses, her eyelids fluttering as he kisses the base of her throat. “I need to—” Her reminder is cut off when his hand travels up past the hem of her dress. 

“You need to what?” He teases, lips curling into a smirk against her ear, teeth catching her earlobe and nibbling softly. 

Oh, Byleth knew where this was going. 

She knew that those hands and lips of his never wandered without intent.

She _knew_ Claude, and she knew all of his tricks. 

Yet she did nothing to stop him. 

“I need—” She’s cut off this time by the feel of his fingers hooking into the band of her underwear and tugging painfully slowly. _“Claude,”_ she scolds, though there’s no real venom behind it as she lifts her hips to aid him.

“You have me, my star,” he chuckles, pulling the fabric further down her legs. “Now you just have to tell me what you need from me.”

Her mind was telling her to reprimand him, because she needed him to stop and allow her to dress. She had a meeting for goodness’ sake! 

Her body betrays her almost immediately. Arching when a trail of open-mouthed kisses commence a sinful line down her throat and the valley between her breasts, drifting down the expanse of her stomach. His fingertips ghost over age-old scars, taking his time to allow his hands and tongue to caress, nip, and kiss almost every bit of her exposed skin, smirking at every quiet gasp or twitch of her hips.

Byleth’s fingers grip his brown locks when his tongue laves over her hip bone, a hand finally pushing her knees apart.

“Tell me what you need…” he murmurs, half-lidded emerald eyes gazing up at her from between her lewdly spread legs. He presses featherlight kisses down the insides of her thighs, his lips achingly close to where she truly wants them. The heat from his touch bleeds over every inch of her skin, each kiss sending pleasant shockwaves up her spine and forcing a sound from her lips that’s dangerously close to keening.

A good queen wouldn’t give in. A good queen wouldn’t put personal pleasure in front of duty.

“I need—” She draws another sharp breath when his arms snake under her thighs, hoisting them onto his shoulders and locking her in place. “I need to get ready,” she exhales shakily, her entire body suddenly feeling flushed. 

“Then tell me to stop,” he challenges, and Byleth jolts, crying out in equal parts shock and pleasure when that silver tongue of his glides up her slit, sending shocks of pleasure to her core. She tugs rough handfuls of his hair, and the moan that it elicits from Claude sends delicious vibrations throughout her body, severing her final thread of self-control.

Well, no queen was perfect. Byleth certainly wasn’t.

“Fuck,” Byleth shudders, her voice a strangled moan as Claude’s tongue finds her clit. _If it hadn’t been so long since the last time…_ “Maybe— _oh gods, yes_ — I can be a little late.”

**__________**

They only stop when someone pounds on their bedroom door, when the sky is transitioning from soft orangey glow into an even softer shade of blue. 

_“Your Majesty!”_

“Seteth,” Byleth gasps, placing her hands on Claude’s chest and pushing herself upright. They lay amidst their mess of tangled bedsheets and displaced pillows, duties (and advisors) long forgotten. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” her husband growls beneath her, fingers digging into her hips to keep her in place. “Byleth!” he hisses when she doesn’t move, his body tense underneath hers and desperate to find release. 

_“Your staff said you were ill this morning, so I managed to push your meetings back a few hours. I’ve put it off as long as I could, but I must run some things by you before then.”_

Byleth makes a note to thank her staff for being so thoughtful.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes!” Byleth calls back, praying that Seteth doesn’t catch the way her voice falters when Claude thrusts up into her. 

When she hears Seteth’s footsteps retreat down the hall, she looks down to find Claude’s pupils blown wide, emerald eyes still darkened with lust. 

It’s funny how, with a single look, he can make heat coil in her belly all over again. 

Impatient, Claude sits up and wraps an arm around her, reversing their positions and pressing her back into the mattress. “Then I’ll make this quick for you, _Your Majesty,_ ” he says almost devilishly, flashing her that handsome grin she loved so much. 

Her breath catches in her throat when he rolls his hips into hers, almost overwhelmingly sensitive from the previous two orgasms he’d wrung out of her with his fingers alone. She desperately clings to the muscled expanse of his back, releasing a breathless moan as he wraps her leg around his hip and sets a relentless pace.

Any thought of being on time had long evaporated from her mind, but her thoughts truly vapourize when he groans into her ear, cursing low and deep in Almyran. 

Her nails dig into his shoulders, encouraging a particularly hard thrust that pulls a desperate sob from her lips. “Claude, please—”

He only grunts in reply, his warm breath fanning across her skin and sending sparks through her veins. 

It wasn’t long after that Byleth came undone a third time that morning, writhing in his embrace as her body was wracked with waves of pleasure. 

Claude’s hips stutter as she clenches around him, and Byleth is sure she sees white when he sinks his teeth into her collarbone to muffle the growl that rips itself from his throat.

He collapses on top of her, both their chests heaving as they come down off their respective highs. Byleth kisses his shoulder, humming quietly as she strokes a hand through his hair. 

“I’ve missed you,” she murmurs into his ear. “I missed you so much.”

“Me? Or little big me?” He jokes, earning a half-hearted slap to the back of his head. “Kidding, kidding,” he laughs, rolling off of her. “I think I missed you more.” She turns her head to the side in order to meet his reverent gaze, tucking herself into his chest. 

“What about Seteth?” He chuckles, but wraps his arms around her anyways. “He’s waiting for you.”

“He can handle a few squabbling nobles on his own,” she sighs, the feel of his fingers skimming between her shoulder blades further encouraging to stay in bed. “We deserve more mornings like this.” 

Mornings where they weren’t king and queen, but husband and wife. 

Claude and Byleth.

His brows furrow intently, another look that Byleth recognizes as she twines her fingers with his. “Love, what are you thinking?”

“I was thinking...that as soon as things are stable again, we should go on that vacation. We’ll call it our long overdue honeymoon.”

Stability seemed like such a far-off idea. An almost impossibly high standard, considering the remnants of an underground society had just risen an army and attacked the capital city. 

But the idea of _finally_ setting out and seeing the world with Claude at her side...well, the idea alone would be motivation enough to see this through to the end. They had magic to learn in Morfis, northern lights to gaze at in Gautier, and beaches to visit in Brigid.

“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head, By,” he laughs once more, the sound like a warm blanket enveloping her heart. He presses his forehead against hers, kissing the tip of her nose. “Don’t forget that I’m here to help you out now. We’ve always worked much better together, haven’t we?”

“We have,” she agrees. They’d won a war together, after all. “When we go on vacation, we will need to bring paperwork with us though. We have to establish constant correspondence between ourselves and our advisors. We must—”

He cuts her off with a crushing kiss to her already bruised lips, effectively swallowing any further words. “Fine,” he concedes anyways. “As long as I get to watch you sit at the desk...naked.” 

She blushes at that, hiding her face in his chest. “I can’t possibly write to Seteth while naked.”

“So? I write to Nader while I’m naked all the time.” He clears his throat, prompting Byleth to look up at him. “ _Dear Nader, I’m sorry to hear about your troubles,”_ is how I’ll start. _“I’ll list my suggestions below and implore you to make the ultimate decision, as I am too busy watching my wife work her sumptuous bottom off...”_

**Author's Note:**

> there was only one thing missing from my long fic: SPICE
> 
> if you haven't already, give it a read :)
> 
> _________
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have an amazing day, you beautiful person 🥺💙


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